Fate or Luck Part 1
by Dede42
Summary: When the BAU get a case of a dead woman who has a pentagram cut into her chest down in Florida, they call on the Winchesters to help with the investigation to see whether they are dealing with something supernatural or not, and Penelope mets a guy who wants to go out on a date with her. Will the BAU and the Winchesters solve the case before anyone else dies?
1. Chapter 1: TEAM UP

Supernatural: Fate or Luck Pt. 1

A/N: Hello, I'm back with another story, and this will be different since this is from Season 3 of _Criminal Minds_ _._ This episode is actually called _Lucky_ and the episode that comes after it, which is part 2, is called _Penelope_ , and while I was watching both, I realized that this would making a perfect two-parter for my own work. Basically I high-jacked both episodes and I had some fun with them.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE: TEAM UP**

" _Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this_ _is_ _the whole duty of man_ _."_

 _Ecclesiastes 12:13_

Florida State Hospital, 1988…

A storm was raging outside the walls of the institution while inside, it was fairly quiet save for the occasional mutterings from one of the patients, one of the male nurses patrolling the halls, and there was music coming from room 219.

* * *

It was the inhabitant of this room that was a current topic among several doctors gathered in a meeting. They were talking about the patient's impending release and one of them was objecting _very_ strongly.

"We _can't_ release him," a black man named Dr. Jim Lorenz objected, thumping the table with his fist, "he's a risk to _everyone_."

"He's _responded_ to the medication," pointed out one of the other doctors, "and he's made progress."

Dr. Lorenz shook his head, disgusted. "Progress? In here he might've made progress, but out there…he'll _play_ out these fantasies." And he held up a red book that he kept all of his thoughts and notes in.

"But he'll stay on the med-" another doctor began.

"He _won't_ stay on the medication," Dr. Lorenz cut in. "He's gained 160 pounds since he went on those pills, and that'll change if he's released."

The head doctor, Dr. Nash, sighed, listening to the continued arguing, and then spoke up. "He's seventeen and state law _requires_ that when he turns eighteen he _must_ be released, and our hands are tied."

"It's not your hands I worry about," Dr. Lorenz said unhappily. _'God, protect us all from political fools, and protect the people out there, too.'_

* * *

In room 219, the you man, who was _very_ overweight, was organizing his books and was setting them in a neat row on a shelf above his desk when he heard a key turn in the lock.

A guard entered, checking that everything was in order. "Good news, kid," he informed him, "you'll be getting out soon, and just maybe you should change your name to Lucky." And the guard left.

The young man _smiled_ to himself as quiet voices whispered in his mind and he looked at the ghoulish paintings on his walls. _'Perfect!'_

* * *

Modern day

Quantico, VA…

Penelope Garcia entered her favorite coffee shop, where she was greet by the woman behind the counter, who immediately accepted her insulated cup and filled it with coffee. "Morning!"

Once she had her coffee and paid for it, Penelope turned to go when a great-looking guy began cursing at his laptop, which had the evil blue screen of death on it. "Trouble?"

The man sighed, frustrated. "My laptop just died on me, and three hours of work are gone."

"Let me guess," Penelope said. "You were so busy that you forgot to save regularly."

The man gave a sheepish smile. "Guilty as charged."

Penelope smiled. "I know a bit about computers, so if you want…"

"If you can fix it, I'll be impressed," said the man, stepping aside, so that she could have access.

Sitting down both her coffee and her purse, Penelope began typing. "Windows, typical that it would crash, and… _viola!_ " after a few seconds, she'd fixed the laptop, and restored the documents, too. "There you go."

The man _was_ impressed. "Wow, thanks." He smiled at her. "I'm James Colby Bolyer, friends call me Coby."

"Penelope Garcia," said Penelope, shaking his hand. "Friends call me Wonderful, or Garcia."

* * *

After exchanging phone numbers, Penelope arrived at the BAU in a happy daze and gave a vague "good morning" to Morgan, who was quick to pick up on the change.

" _Pump_ your brakes," he ordered and she turned to face him. "What's with you, baby girl?"

Penelope flushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

" _Every morning_ I say "good morning, princess" and you respond with "oh, I'll show you a good morning, hot cheeks', but not today?"

"Oh, I hate it when you profile me," Penelope complained, fixing his collar, and then told him about the guy she'd met earlier. "So, what should I do?"

"You should trust your gut," Morgan advised, "and if you have to, blow him off."

Penelope didn't look sure about that advice, but JJ walked up to them. "Hey, JJ."

"Hey, Garcia," JJ responded, her arms full of folders. "Time for the briefing, and it's a bad one."

"How bad?" Morgan asked, dreading the answer.

"Florida."

* * *

"Bridgewater, Florida," JJ began once the team was gathered. "Abby Kelton, age 19, was found this morning in Alligator Alley by joggers just outside the town, and it's aptly named. Everything below the waist had been eaten." And on the screen were the remains of a red-haired young woman.

"Ah, the circle of life," David Rossi commented as JJ sat down.

Emily Prentiss grimaced. "Suddenly I don't feel so guilty about my alligator wallet."

"An alligator didn't cut off her fingers, cut her throat, or craved an inverted pentagram into her chest," Aaron Hotchner pointed out, passing around photos of the crime scene.

"The local authorities believe that these are signs that she was killed by a satanic cult," JJ informed them, reading from the report sent to her.

Rossi rolled his eyes. "Some things never change."

"Killer satanic cults don't exist," Emily pointed out. "They were debunked as a suburban myth." And she frowned when Rossi furrowed his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"Rossi's the one that debunked them," Reid announced and Rossi smiled.

Emily flushed. "Oh, right. Thanks."

"Or it could be something else altogether," Hotch said thoughtfully. "JJ?"

"I've already called the Winchesters and they'll meet us at the jet," JJ responded.

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "So, I'll finally meet the Winchesters?"

"Yes you will," JJ promised and then returned their attention to the case, realizing something. "So killer satanic cults don't exist, but satanic serial killers do?"

"Lasciate ogni speranza, ch'intrate," Rossi quoted as he gathered up his folder, stood, and left the room.

JJ stared after him, confused. "Well, thanks for clearing that up."

"It's from Dante's Inferno," Reid explained. "'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here'."

* * *

"Remind me again, _why_ we're risking our necks by goin' to an airport _near_ FBI headquarters?" Dean asked, uneasy since they didn't know the current location of Agent Henriksen and they had just been in New York, where they'd wiped out a vampire nest that was targeting truck drivers, and Dean had used the Colt on the leader, who'd tried to feed on Liz.

"We're goin' because JJ asked us to help with their new case," said Sam, flipping through the pictures that'd been emailed to them.

"Plus we'll get to meet David Rossi and see what he's really like," Liz added, leaning between her brothers. "And maybe get an idea of _why_ he came out of retirement." When JJ called to have them help with the case, she'd told them that Gideon's position on the team had been given to David Rossi, who had been retired for the past ten years, and had also been one of the founding members of the first BAU team.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, yeah, but I wish we didn't have to fly though."

"Same here," Liz agreed as they drove up to the gate, flashed their badges to the guard, and then drove through.

* * *

After parking the Impala in the long-term space reserved for them, thanks to both Hotch and Penelope, and grabbing their bags, they headed for the jet.

"Sam, Dean, Liz!"

"Hey, guys."

After exchanging handshakes and a few hugs, Hotch introduced Rossi, who was watching them with mild interest. "Guys, this is David Rossi; Dave, these are the Winchesters, Dean, Liz, and Sam."

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Hi."

"It's an honor to finally meet you all," Rossi said, shaking their hands. "Hotch told me what you do for a living, and I look forward to see whether our unsub is human or not."

This surprised the Winchesters since they knew that the team hadn't been that open with Emily at first.

"You've been told _everything_?" Sam asked, surprised since Rossi's emotions were, surprisingly, calm and not negative in the slightest.

"I insisted," Rossi responded, noting that Hotch was flushing slightly, and was checking his watch. "But we can talk about it later."

* * *

Once the jet was in the air, Sam did his "Jedi trick" to calm his siblings down, and Reid had shown off a bit by easily quoting from one of Rossi's books, they worked on the profile.

"Witches _do_ use the pentagram, but they typically don't do something like this," Liz remarked, tapping the picture. "Demons on the other hand…"

"Which means our unsub may be possessed," Morgan suggested, and "and has nothin' to do with religion at all."

Rossi raised his eyebrows at the silent jab, but didn't push the issue…for now. "Assumin' that the unsub _is_ possess, then how do we prove it?"

"Well, there's several ways," Sam explained. "Sayin' _Christo_ will get a negative reaction. Holy water on the skin and havin' them drink it, too. Have 'em touch salt, and/or poke them with a piece of iron. Of course, if I'm within five feet, I can sense the demon's presence."

"Fascinating," Rossi commented, impressed.

"Until we know for sure of whether this unsub is possess or not, let's focus on the rest of the profile," Hotch suggested. "What else does these pictures tell us about the unsub?"

"Well, it's safe to say that he's a local," said Reid studying a picture. "He slit his victim's throat and is religious to some degree."

"So, he probably went to the same church," Emily guessed, "and there doesn't seem to be any signs of sexual assault. 'Course, with the lack of a lower half…"

There was general agreement to that, and they continued working on the profile, the victimology, and the geographic profile.

* * *

A while later, the jet landed and they were greeted by the lead detective.

"I'm glad you could make it," said the detective around a cigar, shaking hands with JJ. "I'm Detective Jordan."

"Jennifer Jareau," said JJ, doing the introductions. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Dr. Spencer Reid, and the Winchesters: Dean, Liz, and Sam."

"Welcome. So how do you want to process?" Detective Jordan asked.

"Morgan, Rossi, and Liz, go to the local church and talk with both the reverend and the parents," Hotch instructed, ignoring the way that Morgan's eyes widened in protest. "Reid, Sam, and JJ go to the station and start setting up. Dean, Prentiss, and I will go to the morgue to examine the body."

Everyone nodded, split up into the respective SUVs, and headed out.

* * *

At the church, Liz was surprised when Morgan requested that Rossi should interview the reverend, and then fought back a laugh when she and Rossi left to talk with the parents, leaving him with the reverend. _'Oh, Morgan is_ so _gonna get back at Rossi.'_

Father Marks gave Morgan an inquiring look. "So, how long has it been, Agent Morgan?"

Morgan was startled. "Excuse me?"

"Since you've been in God's house," Father Marks explained. "Priests and dentists can spot an overdue customer a mile away, so how long has it been?"

Morgan frowned. "I didn't come here to talk about myself."

Father Marks nodded. "Occupational hazard. My apologies."

Morgan did his best not to tense up and asked his questions of whether Father Marks knew of anyone within his parish that would do something like this.

Father Marks shook his head. "No, I don't believe I know anyone who would kill in such a manner."

"Thank you for your time, sir." And Morgan left. _'I'm_ so _gonna get back at Rossi for this.'_

* * *

Meanwhile, Rossi and Liz were in the office with the parents, who were upset, and they were sorting through different pictures, and neither of them was too emotionally stabled.

"They won't let us have an open-casket," Mrs. Kelton explained to Liz, who was looking at the photos. "So, we were told to bring a picture for the funeral service, but I couldn't decide on just one, and I brought them all."

"She was very beautiful," Liz told her, putting the photo down and let Rossi take over the interview.

"Her first steps?" Rossi asked, picking up one of the photos while sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Yes, Bob took that picture so that I wouldn't miss it," Mrs. Kelton confirmed. "I was at a church retreat."

Rossi examined the photo before handing it over. "A bit young to be walking, don't you think?"

"Nine months," said Mrs. Kelton said proudly, "first in the neighborhood to swim, too."

While they talked, Liz glanced at Mr. Kelton and noted that he was tensing up in a way that she recognized to be pent up grief and anger. _'Oh boy, he looks ready to pop.'_

And she was right. No sooner were the words "she's studying to be a nurse" out of Mrs. Kelton's mouth, did Mr. Kelton speak up.

"Was."

"What?" Mrs. Kelton asked, glancing at her husband. "What did you say?"

"She _was_ studyin' to be a nurse," Mr. Kelton answered, not looking at his wife, and chewed on his thumbnail instead.

Mrs. Kelton stared at him for several seconds before standing up and left the room; Liz glanced at Rossi, who nodded, and she left the room, too, to look after the grieving woman.

Rossi moved from the desk to the couch, sitting next to the grieving man.

"I – I made the identification," Mr. Kelton explained thickly. "Doc, he lowered the sheet just enough so that I could see her face, but I – I could tell that somethin' was wrong from the way that the sheet was laying on her. Abby, my sweet Abby." He sniffed. "Doc, he…um…he told me that I didn't need to see, and – and Detective Jordan, he told me that I didn't need to know." He then fixed Rossi with a look. "Now, I trust Doc, and I trust Jordan, Agent Rossi. But if you tell me that same, I'll believe you."

Rossi looked at him with understanding. "Mr. Kelton," he said gently, touching the photos. " _These_ are the memories you want to keep."

Mr. Kelton believed him and he broke down crying.

* * *

A while later, both Rossi and Liz left the church, where Father Marks was greeting a family bringing food for the Kelton's, and found a grumpy Morgan waiting for them at the SUV.

' _Boy, if looks could kill,'_ Liz thought, noting the glare that Morgan was giving Rossi, who ignored it, and they all got into the SUV.

* * *

At the local morgue, Hotch, Emily, and Dean were talking with the head doctor about the victim.

"What do you believe to be the cause of death?" Hotch asked.

"I've determined it to having her throat cut," Dr. Fulton answered. "Plus her nose was broken 48 hours prior to her death."

"Blitz attack," Emily guessed, getting a confirming nod. "Must've done it to subdue her."

"And the pentagram?" Dean asked, noting the lack of sulfur, but he figured it might've been wiped off.

"Post mortem," Dr. Fulton responded.

"What about the fingers?" Emily asked.

Dr. Fulton sighed. "All ten were cut off at the first knuckle."

"How'd you know that?" Hotch asked.

"I was unsure about when at first," Dr. Fulton admitted, picking up a metal bowl. "But then I found these in her stomach. He cut her fingers off when she was still alive, and force fed them to her before her death."

Everyone grimaced at the sight of ten human fingers.

* * *

In a concrete room with walls covered with writing done in blood and several creepy-looking paintings, the man, now much thinner and older, was sitting at a table.

The books were probably organized, music was playing on a record player, and he was examining a baggie containing ten human fingers.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I'm leaving this on a slightly creepy note, but that's how it goes sometimes. R&R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: I HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE

Supernatural: Fate or Luck Pt. 1

A/N: I am _so_ sorry for not posting this yesterday like I normally do! I had a hectic morning yesterday and a long shift at work, so I was exhausted when I got home. So, to make up for my mistake, I'll be posting two chapters today instead of just one. Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWO: "I HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE."**

" _The thing that hath been, it_ _is that_ _which shall be; and that which is done_ _is_ _that which shall be done: and_ _there is_ _no new_ _thing_ _under the sun_ _."_

 _Ecclesiastes 1:9_

After completing the interviews, they went to the police station, where JJ, Reid, and Sam had already begun setting up the boards, and the team began comparing notes.

"We can rule out teenagers," said Morgan, tapping his pen on the table. "What about demons?"

"It's highly possible," Sam remarked. "While the fingers are new, they _do_ like slitting throats, and they like to mock religions, too, hence the inverted pentagram."

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "Based on what I've been told concerning demons, shouldn't there be more signs of torture?" he inquired.

"Normally, yes," Liz agreed, "but demons will cover their tracks to avoid drawing the attention of hunters as much as possible, and there's been a lot of that goin' on lately among the demons that were supportive of Azazel's plan."

"Why is that?" Reid asked.

"Accordin' to _Ruby_ , the new demon in charge _isn't_ too supportive of what ol' yellow-eyes had planned," Dean explained, "and wants us three dead, especially Sam."

"Peachy," Morgan muttered grimly.

" _Anyway_ ," said Rossi, changing the subject, "these fingers are a message of some kind, and that means he's reaching out."

"He is," Hotch confirmed, having just received the news. "'She's not my first'. Those fingers don't belong to Abby Kelton, and six of them are pointer fingers."

Grim looks were exchanged, realizing that there were more victims and that their unsub could strike again at any time.

* * *

A blonde woman, named Tracey Lambert, parked her jeep in a parking lot near one of the parks, and slipped a textbook on birds into her backpack. She got out, locked her jeep, and went into the restroom.

Tracey entered the first stall, set her backpack down, and shut the door, revealing an inverted pentagram on the back and it was painted on in blood.

She froze in fear, her eyes going wide, and her blood ran cold. In the next stall, the unsub lowered his feet to the floor, pushed the door open, and walked toward the stall door, which wasn't locked.

Tracey saw his boots and began backing away, pinning herself between the walls and the toilet when he opened the door, and she screamed when he reached for her.

* * *

The next day, Penelope was in her office, lounging in her chair and was running the fingerprints from the ten fingers through the database when her phone rang.

"You've reached the great and honorable Penelope Garcia, speak and be heard," she said into her headset, keeping an eye on her screens.

 _`"Um, this is Colby, you fixed my laptop yesterday?"`_

"Oh, hi!" Penelope gasped, sitting up slightly. "Yeah, I – I remember."

 _`"Good, so I was thinkin' of changing that thank you lunch to a dinner instead,"`_ Colby offered. _`"I'm askin' you out, Garcia, tomorrow night."`_

"T-tomorrow night?" Penelope stammered, surprised that this was happening, and quickly recalled Morgan's advice. "Tomorrow night, tomorrow night, uh-" she began coughing "I'd love to, but – but I'm comin' down with something."

 _`"Oh,"`_ said Colby, clearly disappointed. _`"I'm sorry to hear that."`_

Just then, there was a beep and Penelope was immediately distracted by the fingerprint results. "Yeah, same here," she said vaguely, staring at the photos of ten different women and where they'd been snatched from. _'Oh my God!'_

 _`"Well, I hope you feel better,"`_ said Colby before he hanged up his phone.

Penelope hit two different buttons, speed-dialing Morgan's cell, and she tossed the business card that Colby had given her into her bright pink trash bin under her desk.

* * *

Morgan was looking through some papers when his phone rang, and he answered it. "Talk to me, hot stuff."

 _`"I've got ten hits off the fingerprints,"`_ Penelope informed him. _`"No two fingers belong to one woman."`_

Morgan was surprised. "You were able to id all ten women?"

 _`"Yep, and havin' 40 plus prostitute charges helps,"`_ Penelope responded. _`"I've already sent the files your way, bye."`_

"Whoa, wait a minute," said Morgan, surprised again. "What? No snappy rethoric?"

 _`"Don't feel like it."`_

Morgan frowned. "Penelope…"

 _`"That guy I meet at the coffee shop called me and asked me out,"`_ Penelope told him. _`"And I took your advice, and I blew him off."`_

"Well, good for you," said Morgan. "Smart move, there was clearly somethin' wrong with that guy."

* * *

Penelope frowned. "Wow, you're _quite_ the profiler, Morgan," she said sharply. "Based on the little that I told you, you could tell just how _wrong_ he was for me."

 _`"Garcia, wait-"`_ Morgan began.

"You know, just because _you_ won't cross a smoky room to talk to me…he _did_ and you're jealous," Penelope cut in. "Could it be that he's _too_ perfect? You want a snappy retort, Morgan? You _suck_!" and she slammed the phone into its' cradle.

Breathing hard, she snatched up her trash bin, dug around until she found the business card, and began pushing buttons on her phone with her pen.

* * *

Morgan cringed at the loud noise and shut his phone, wondering how he could've screwed up like that when Emily entered.

"You ok?" she asked, noting his tense expression.

"Yeah, Garcia ID'd all ten fingers," Morgan responded.

"Yeah, she just sent them over," Emily confirmed, setting down a small pile of papers. "Including where they all were taken from."

Morgan picked up the top paper and looked at it, his eyes widening. "Has Hotch seen this?"

Emily nodded. "Uh huh, and he's already setting up a briefing to present the profile. JJ's alerting the families, the Winchesters are researching, and Hotch wants you to brief the locals."

"Let's do it."

* * *

It wasn't long before everyone was gathered in the bullpen for the updated profile.

"The unsub is from Bridgewater."

""You mean he's local?" Detective Jordan asked surprised. "How'd you know that?"

Hotch nodded to a map on the board, which had a map of the area pinned to it, and eleven photos of the victims were attached to it with red pins marking the abduction sites.

"The first ten victims were taken from the counties surrounding Bridgewater," he explained, "and that void in the center is his safety zone, which _is_ Bridgewater."

"So why did he attack in that void? Why kill in his safety zone?" Jordan asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth. "We didn't know that he existed."

"You _didn't_ know he existed," Rossi pointed out. "He _wants_ you to know that he's out there, _and_ that he's from around here."

"Why? Does he _want_ us to catch him?" Jordan asked.

Rossi shook his head. "No, killing gives him power, and us knowing gives him more."

"And he's just gettin' started," Morgan added.

Just then, Jordan's cell rang and he answered it. "Detective Jordan." He listened for a moment, nodded, and then closed his phone with a grim expression. "You're right, he's _just_ getting started."

* * *

At the state park, Emily, Liz, and Rossi pulled on blue latex gloves and entered the restroom, where they found Tracey's backpack on the floor with its' contents scattered.

"Yesterday afternoon, Tracey told her roommate that she was going out for a hike and never came back," Emily remarked.

"So he was waiting for her," Rossi guessed, pushing the doors to the nearest stalls open.

"Blitz attack," said Liz bending over the scattered items. "No sulfur, though."

When Rossi opened the door to the stall that Tracey had been in, he noted that the books from the backpack had lined them up from smallest to largest on the toilet seat cover. "Our unsub was in an institution."

"He was?" Emily asked as she and Liz peered into the stall and spotted the books.

"A person that's been in an institution is surrounded by chaos," Rossi explained, "but they're taught to keep their rooms clean, neat, tidy, and organized. When they're released and they go off their meds, their minds fall back into chaos. But they _will_ find that _one aspect_ of their lives to keep in some kind of order amidst the chaos."

"So, we're looking for a former mental patient," Emily guessed, pulling out her cell-phone. "I'll have Garcia check the records of the local mental hospitals." And she left to make the call.

"In a creepy way that _actually_ makes sense for a demon to possess someone who's already weakened by a mental illness," Liz commented, frowning.

"I concur," Rossi agreed, "demons _do_ thrive on takin' advantage of human weakness, fear, and pain. But have you ever heard of a demon that does anything like this? Something with so little torture?"

Liz sighed. "Two years ago I would say no, but after what my brothers and I went through last year with Azazel and his followers…honestly, Rossi, there's _no_ sure way to predict what a demon will or will not do. However, _if_ this guy is mentally disturbed, then whatever disturbing fantasies that are runnin' through his mind, _might_ be somethin' that the demon would like."

Rossi nodded. "You're right, Liz, if we _only_ profile the human unsub and find him, then figuring out the demon will be that much easier. Have you ever consider joining the FBI, Liz? Become a profiler?"

Liz chuckled. "I've dreamed about living a normal life, but then I recall what happen when Sam _tried_ to have a normal life, and I see that it's unlikely to ever happen."

"Don't talk like that," Rossi told her seriously. "I'm sure that a time will come when you, Sam, and Dean will have a chance to stop being hunters of the supernatural, and when that happens, I can recommend you for entrance into the FBI."

"Well, I might take you up on that, Rossi," Liz said, "providin' that I don't get dragged down to Hell first."

"I _won't_ let that happen," Rossi promised.

"Here's hopin'."

* * *

Outside, Hotch, Morgan, Dean, and Sam were going through Tracey's jeep, looking for clues, Detective Jordan was writing in a notebook, and the cops were searching the nearby area when a car pulled up and Father Marks got out.

Morgan frowned when he saw the reverend and looked across the jeep at Hotch. "What's he doin' here?" he asked, nodding at the new arrival.

"I called him," Jordan informed them. "State search and rescue's out of Tallahassee and it'll take at least 4 to 5 hours to set up."

"So?" Morgan asked, clearly not thrilled as he moved away from the jeep

"Tracey's a member of the church choir," Father Marks explained. "My congregation is feelin' helpless. At least this way, we'll feel like we're doin' something."

"That's not a good idea," Morgan protested. "The unsub could be a member of your church."

"So?" Jordan asked.

"Serial killers like to insert themselves into these investigations," Hotch answered, joining them.

"Look, Tracey's the second girl to go missin' in a week," Jordan pointed out, "and we all know what happened to the first. Now, I'm conductin' this search."

"Sir, we're here to help," said JJ, stepping in to ease the tension. "Let us set it up. If we should do a search, we can draw him out. Volunteer list should give us a good suspect list."

Detective Jordan didn't look convinced, but he agreed. "All right, let's do this."

* * *

Soon tables were set up, and the church members arrived to sign in. Showing their IDs as they sighed up for the search teams, they then moved toward the staging area, greeting Father Marks.

Both the Winchesters and the BAU team watched closely as the parishioners were given food, water, and a single whistle each; Rossi glanced over at Morgan, who was keeping an close eye on Father Marks.

"Sensin' anything?" Dean asked Sam, and sighed when Sam shook his head. "Dammit, it must be hidin' deep in one of these people, and it probably won't show itself until it's too late."

"Probably," Sam agreed, examining the various emotions instead.

* * *

Meanwhile, as the groups searched the park for Tracey, calling out her name, and looking for clues. One of the searchers, a dark-haired lady named Sheryl Timmons, broke off from her husband, John, and their group, to check the undergrowth.

Little did she know, she was being stalked by the unsub. Sheryl was checking the undergrowth when she heard the cracking of twigs and looked behind her, tightly clutching a whistle in one hand…but there was no one there.

' _Must've been a squirrel or something,'_ she thought, turning back…and screamed when she was attacked!

* * *

John Timmons froze when he heard his wife scream and ran in the direction that it came from. "Sheryl? Sheryl?"

Seconds later, he found the whistle, but there was no sign of his wife…she'd been taken.

"Sheryl?" John called out, drawing the attention of the group. " _Sheryl!_ "

* * *

That night, a tanned car zoomed through the back roads, catching the attention of a police car on patrol, and the driver only stopped when he saw the flashing lights and heard the siren; pulling to the side of the road, he turned up the music on the radio.

The cop got out of the car, turned on a flashlight, and started toward the vehicle when he heard a request on his radio.

 _`"Attention all units. Sheryl Timmons, age 35, 5'5, last seen wearing a pink shirt and tanned kakis. All units please respond."`_

"Unit 18 responding," said the cop into his radio, got confirmation, and then called out to the driver before heading out. "Slow down!"

The driver watched as the cop drove away, the loud music covering the muffled thumping and screaming coming from the trunk that Sheryl was currently locked in. _'And I continue to be protected.'_

* * *

At the police station, John Timmons was freaking out, Hotch and Rossi were comforting him, the cops were frantic with this new problem, and the rest of the team were trying to figure out how this could possibly happen.

"I'm startin' to wonder whether if this really _is_ a demon," Sam admitted to Dean and Liz, "and not some other supernatural creature, or even, just a _very_ sick person."

"At this point we can't role out _anything_ ," Liz stated, agreeing with the mounting frustration they were all experiencing with this case.

* * *

Emily was stirring her instant coffee in order to cool it down a bit when Morgan walked over and began filling two cups with hot water.

"Hey, how's it going with Father Marks?" she asked him. "Any of the volunteers jump out at him?"

"Not yet," Morgan answered tiredly.

Just then, Emily's phone rang and she answered it. "Garcia?"

 _`"I'm still running the particulars of our homicides through VICAP,"`_ Penelope informed her, _`"nothing so far."`_

"Ok, I just sent you the volunteer search list," Emily told her, surprised that Penelope was calling her instead of Morgan as usual.

 _`"Ok, and I'm cross-checking the names against mental institutional records,"`_ Penelope responded.

"Pay attention to individuals who were involuntarily committed in Florida," Emily advised. "Uh, Rossi's convinced that our unsub is the type that likes to stay close to home, and Liz thinks that if we can find him, then she, Dean, and Sam will have a better chance in confirming whether the unsub's possessed or not."

 _`"Got it,"`_ said Penelope. _`"Talk to you later."`_

"Hey, Garcia, you normally call Morgan about these things. Is everything okay?" Emily asked.

 _`"God, I hate profilers,"`_ Penelope complained.

"Ok, come on, tell me," Emily requested.

Penelope sighed. _"I met this guy at the coffee shop I go to everyday…"`_

Emily nodded as she got the full story. "Right, got it." She then shut her phone and turned to face Morgan, who'd been listening in.

"What?" he asked startled to see her scowling at him.

"When a woman tells a man about her feelings, she doesn't want him to _fix_ her," Emily scolded, "she _wants_ him to shut up and listen."

Stunned, Morgan watched Emily stormed off, and he wondered just _how_ much longer he was going to be in the doghouse with Penelope?

* * *

A short while later, Morgan went back to the conference room with the coffee and gave one to Father Marks before sitting down. "Any luck?"

Father Marks shook his head, looking through the volunteer lists. "I'm sorry, but _none_ of these people _match_ the person you described."

"One of them does," Morgan countered.

Father Marks sighed, frustrated. "I see these people _everyday_ , and they all go to church regularly-"

"He's a mimic," Morgan cut in, annoyed. "He only goes to church because everyone else does, and his name is on one of those lists."

"Listen, these days plenty of young men, and not _just_ the unmarried ones, go to church because everyone else does," Father Marks pointed out, "and not _one_ of them would do _anything_ like this."

Scowling, Morgan grabbed a photo of Abby Kelton's head and shoulders and shoved it toward the priest. "Well _tell_ that to Sheryl's husband and kids when they ask you to pray over what's left of her." Slamming the photo down, he got up and headed for the doorway.

"And I'll pray for both their sake's _and_ yours that I'll _never_ have to do that, Agent Morgan," Father Marks vowed, turning in his chair to glare at Morgan who was glaring back at him.

Morgan scoffed. "Yeah, good luck with that." And he turned to leave.

" _What_ happen to you?" Father Marks asked, standing up and moved toward Morgan. "Only _someone_ born into religion could have _such contempt_ for a priest he hardly knows."

Morgan scowled. "When I was a kid, somethin' bad was happenin' to me and I went to church _everyday_ , and I prayed, oh I _prayed_ , and you know what _God_ did? _Nothin'_."

"God _never_ gives us more than we can handle," Father Marks told him gently.

"God expects _way_ too much of 13-year-old boys," Morgan snapped and stormed off, missing the stunned expression of understanding on the priest's face.

* * *

A while later, Rossi went outside and found Morgan leaning against the building. "Father Marks seemed pretty shaken up when he left," he commented, joining his teammate.

"Well, he has a good reason to be," said Morgan with a grumpy tone.

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "You're still angry with me for throwing you under the bus with the priest the other day."

Morgan snorted. "If you say so."

"In my day, when your partner made a request like that…" Rossi shrugged. "Well, I was just giving you a chance for personal growth."

Morgan chuckled. "I get you, Dave." And then faced the older man. "They said you couldn't interview serial killers, you _did_. They said you couldn't form a profiling team, you _did_. They said that there was _no way_ in hell that you would come back, you _did_."

"If you know all that, then why did you tell me that you didn't want to talk to the priest?" Rossi asked.

Morgan smiled. "I was givin' _you_ a chance for personal growth."

Rossi smiled and raised his eyebrows again when Morgan walked past him. "Where're you going?"

"To apologized," Morgan answered, heading for the cars, and Rossi smiled again.

* * *

Morgan entered the church and paused in the doorway to the chapel, and it was empty saved for some lit candles and a single woman praying.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely, "I'm lookin' for Father Marks." And got no response or even a reaction, and it was then that a sudden gust of wind blew out the candles that were next to the altar.

' _Oh_ that _can't be good,'_ Morgan thought, and glanced at the woman, who hadn't moved an inch. "Did you see that?" he asked, looking around. "Ma'am?"

Still not getting a response, Morgan approached her. "Excuse me, ma'am?" he asked, and then he gingerly reached out and touched her shoulder.

The woman then slumped onto the bench, revealing that she was dead, had no legs, no fingers, her throat was slit, and she had an inverted pentagram carved into her chest.

Fighting back a curse, Morgan pulled out his gun and looked around for _any_ sign that the unsub was still there. _'Of_ all _the places to leave a dead body!'_

* * *

Sheryl was locked in a room, lying on her stomach and was chained to a table; when she heard the door open, she began struggling against the bonds and was pleading as the unsub walked over to her.

"Please," she whimpered. "Please, don't."

Ignoring her pleads, the unsub ran a knife over a steel rod several times.

"Please, please," Sheryl cried. "I – I have _children_."

Setting aside the rod, the unsub gently used the knife to cut the fabric of her pants, revealing her legs; setting aside knife, he poured some oil onto his hands. "Relax this is gonna feel _real_ nice," he told her as he rubbed the oil between his palms and then began massaging her legs.

Sheryl cried and pleaded to no avail.

* * *

At the morgue, Dr. Fulton, Hotch, and Emily were going over the latest victim that'd been left for them at the church.

"She's Hispanic," Hotch remarked, "and she's clearly isn't either of the women we're looking for."

"Thanks, Garcia," said Emily, closing the phone and rejoining Hotch. "Got it. Her name's Maria Lopez and she was a prostitute…but she was reported missing nine months ago."

"She's been dead for 72 hrs," Dr. Fulton informed them, "and I can confirm that there's _no_ sexual assault."

Emily frowned. "Why would he hold her for nine months, only to kill her three days later?"

"Can you check to see if any of her cells have burst?" Hotch asked Dr. Fulton as several puzzle pieces fell into place and the picture that was forming _wasn't_ pretty.

"You think she was frozen?" Emily asked. "Why would he do that?"

"Because I think he's eating them," Hotch answered grimly, and this floored Emily.

The unsub was a cannibal?!

* * *

A/N: A cannibal? Ew! R&R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3:TO CATCH A CANNIBAL

Supernatural: Fate or Luck Pt. 1

A/N: Here's the next chapter as promised, and I hope you all have a great New Year's Eve tomorrow!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE: TO CATCH A CANNIBAL**

" _He lieth in wait secretly as a lion in his den: he lieth in wait to catch the poor: he doth catch the poor, when he draweth him into his net_ _."_

 _Psalms 10:9_

Soon everyone was back at the police station and went over the new evidence.

"Dr. Fulton confirmed it, Maria Lopez was frozen shortly after her death," Emily reported.

"Well that explains why we haven't been able to find the other victims," Morgan remarked. "He's keepin' 'em."

"How'd you get to cannibalism?" JJ asked, frowning.

"He wasn't taking them for sex, and he took their legs," Hotch explained. "He was telling us by feeding Abby Kelton the fingers. It was a message for us. "I've killed before" was just part of it. "I'm eating them" was the other part."

"Cannibalism, the greatest taboo," Rossi remarked. "That explains his drive to blame his appetite on an outside force."

"Why would _anyone_ want to eat human flesh?" JJ wondered.

"It's like a sexual urge," Reid explained. "A cross-wiring of the two most basic drives – sustenance and sex."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," said Dean, shaking his head. "Demons I get, but humans? You guys can have them."

"Have you ever heard of demon that practices cannibalism?" Morgan asked.

The Winchesters shook their heads. "No, this is new to us."

Just then, Emily's phone rang and she answered it, putting it on speaker. "Hey, Garcia, I'm putting you on speaker."

 _`"So, I can't find any patients in Florida who have the charming cocktail of being both a sadist_ and _a cannibal,"`_ Penelope told them. _`"However, Hazelwood Mental Institution is_ the _place to go for Florida's most dangerous kinds of wackos, and they had a fire back in 1998 that destroyed all of their records."`_

"How far away is Hazelwood?" Hotch asked.

"70 miles," Reid answered.

"Uh, JJ, tell them that we're on our way," Hotch ordered. "Uh, Reid." And he stood up to go, and Reid nodded, following suit.

"Let's do it."

* * *

Hazelwood Hospital for the Criminally Insane…

"As I told Agent Jareau on the phone," a much older Dr. Nash told Hotch and Reid as he led them into his office, his red hair was nearly white, and he was clearly stressed, "we have no existing records of that patient you've described."

"Sir, your records only go back as far as 1998," Hotch pointed out. "We were hoping that perhaps you would remember him?"

"I'm sorry, I don't," Dr. Nash apologized. "Jim Lorenz was in charge of the adolescents."

"Adolescents?" Reid repeated, taking a seat.

Dr. Nash sighed and sat down. "The only reason we release a patient this disturbed is if he was admitted as a minor and turned 18, and this was back during the 1980s while nowadays the rules have changed."

"Could we speak to Dr. Lorenz?" Hotch requested.

Dr. Nash shook his head. "He died in the fire," he informed them. "He was leaving when he heard the alarm. He came back inside…and became trapped."

Hotch and Reid exchanged a look. "Why would he come back?"

"He was…a _very_ dedicated man," Dr. Nash answered.

"Could it be that there was something in his office that he felt worth risking his life for?" Reid inquired.

Dr. Nash shuddered slightly and became somewhat fearful.

"Dr. Nash?" Hotch asked, concerned by the sudden change in the older man. _'What's he hiding?'_

"There _is_ something," Dr. Nash admitted. "The grounds people found it in a tree just below his office." He opened a drawer and began digging through it. "Jim, uh, must've thrown it out his window, jut before he…" he pulled out the red journal and handed it to Reid. "I started reading it…I – I had to s-stop."

Taking the journal, Reid flipped it open and began reading aloud. "The, un – "the patient's symptoms go far beyond the moral psychosexual oral biting fixations of a typical seven-year-old boy."

Hearing this, Hotch immediately pulled out his cell-phone and made a call. "Rossi, we got something," he announced. "I need a name, Reid."

"'Admitted after biting a large piece of flesh from his nine-month-old sister'," Reid continued reading aloud.

"A name," Hotch repeated, trying to get the younger man to focus.

"'Believes he is possessed by a flesh-eating demon'," Reid read.

"Reid," Hotch snapped.

"Floyd Feylinn Ferell."

* * *

"Feylinn? Floyd Feylinn?" Detective Jordan repeated, surprised.

"You know him?" Rossi asked.

Jordan nodded. "Sure I do."

"He must've dropped his last name," Emily realized as she, Morgan, JJ, Rossi, Dean, Liz, Sam, and Jordan got up from the table.

"Would he be _that_ obvious?" Jordan asked, following them.

"Absolutely," Rossi confirmed. "He's not that bright. He believes that Satan would protect him from getting caught."

* * *

It wasn't long before the feds, the Winchesters, and Detective Jordan pulled up outside the off-white house without any fanfare; they headed toward the front door, wearing bullet-proof vests and had their guns out, both Dean and Liz glanced at Sam, who shook his head.

No demon…yet.

They made their way onto the porch and positioned themselves on either side of the door; Rossi checked the knob and found it locked, and Morgan kicked the door in.

"Go right."

They spread out and searched the main floor, finding nothing saved for certain cooking tools and spices in the kitchen that gave Emily, Morgan, and Liz a reason to pause before giving the all-clear.

"It's like dealin' with the Bender family again," Dean muttered, earning agreeing nods from Sam and Liz.

Detective Jordan was near the door to the basement, where he heard the faint strains of _'Sittin' in the Dark'_ through the door, he motioned to the others, and stepped back.

Morgan moved next to the door, glanced at Rossi, who nodded, and he turned the doorknob and the door silently opened; turning on his flashlight, he went down the stairs first and noted the three doors.

He tapped his earpiece and directed JJ, Jordan, and Sam to one door, Emily, Liz, and Rossi to the second door, and Dean joined him at the third door.

Exchanging nods, JJ opened the door, and both Jordan and Sam entered a room that was freezing cold, covered with frost, and was filled with the bodies of the missing girls that had their throats slit, the pentagram carved into their chests, and they were missing their fingers and legs.

"Dear God," Jordan moaned, staring at the corpses as JJ entered, and even Sam looked ill.

* * *

Back in the hallway, Emily kicked the second door open and entered with Liz, finding Sheryl still alive.

"Sheryl Timmons?" Emily asked while Liz made sure that the room was secured, and Rossi remained in the doorway, watching their backs.

"Yes," Sheryl gasped, relieved.

"You're safe now," Liz assured her. "Is Tracey Lambert here?"

"No," Sheryl answered as Emily went to free her, getting a frustrated sigh from Liz, and Rossi turned away to let Dean and Morgan know.

* * *

Back in the storage room, Detective Jordan looked ready to run for it, and Sam didn't blame him in the slightest.

"I need you to keep it together," JJ told him. "Look at the faces, do you see Tracey Lambert?"

Taking a deep breath, Jordan looked at each victim and shook his head, unable to find the missing girl. "No, no, Tracey's not here."

' _Not good,'_ Sam thought while JJ went back to the doorway.

"Tracey Lambert?" Rossi asked her, joining Dean and Morgan.

"She's not here," JJ answered, upset.

Not liking the direction this was heading, Rossi, Dean, and Morgan turned their attention to the third door, which was where the music was coming from.

Getting a nod from Rossi, both Dean and Morgan kicked the door open and entered, finding Floyd sitting on a stool in only his underpants, and didn't even react when Morgan, Dean, and Rossi entered with their guns at the ready.

"FBI! Don't move!" Morgan ordered and Floyd raised his head slightly. "Put your hands where I can see 'em. Do it now."

Floyd turned his head slightly, but that was it.

"Feylinn!" Dean snapped, and Floyd raised his hands, revealing that he was unarmed.

"I got him," said Rossi, his gun trained on Floyd's head.

Morgan turned off his flashlight, put away his gun, and pulled out his handcuffs; he then forced Floyd's hands behind his back, cuffed him, and dragged him off the stool. "Get up. _Get up_."

"Where's Tracey Lambert?" Rossi asked Floyd, who didn't even look at him.

"Let's go," Morgan snapped and frog-marched Floyd out of the room.

Both Rossi and Dean put away their guns and examined the room, which had a make-shifted altar smeared with blood, and a record player playing the music; there were words written on the walls in blood, pentagrams, and also _very_ creepy-looking paintings, too.

Rossi noticed the neatly kept book-self, took down a journal, and opened it to see what was inside. "Oh my…"

Dean also looked and grimaced. "Yikes."

* * *

By the time that Hotch and Reid returned to the police station, the police had already gone through the entire house without finding _any_ trace of Tracey Lambert, and Sheryl Timmons, after giving her statement and had been looked over by the paramedics, had been reunited with her husbands and kids.

The BAU team was now outside the interrogation room, where a fully clothed Floyd was now sitting and handcuffed, and the Winchesters were currently conducting tests.

"Is that him?" Hotch inquired upon entering the room. "Floyd Feylinn Ferell?"

"Yeah, that's him," Morgan confirmed. "We found Sheryl Timmons, but there wasn't _any_ sign of Tracey Lambert, and the Winchesters are testing to see whether the son of bitch is possessed or not."

Just then, then Winchesters came out of the interrogation room with a equipment bag and shook their heads. "He isn't possessed."

"You sure?" Rossi asked.

"Positive," Liz confirmed. "But he's _definitely_ disturbed based on what he had on the walls of his altar room," she added, nodding to the paintings that were now on the table.

Reid immediately sat down and began examining the creepy artwork. "Fransico Goya, known as the Black Paintings," he informed them when Detective Jordan joined them. "Lorenz's notes say that Feylinn was exposed to them as a part of his therapeutic art therapy."

"I don't think it worked," Emily muttered, eying Floyd, who hadn't said a _single_ word since his capture.

"He kills them after 72 hours," Hotch said, looking through the journal that Rossi had found. "Tracey's been gone for 24," he added, handing the book to Morgan. "See if you can find out where she is."

"Do what I can," Morgan promised, taking the book and headed for the interrogation room.

Dean walked over to Hotch, who now had his arms folded. "Do you think he's holdin' Tracey somewhere else?"

"Perhaps."

* * *

Morgan entered the room, sat down across from Floyd, who was looking down, and opened the book, which was filled with recipes.

"'Kobe Girl Steak," huh?" he read and Floyd looked up, which was his only sign of life so far. "That's where you massage the meat right?"

Floyd didn't answer, but he was staring at the cookbook.

"Floyd, these are some unusual recipes you got here," Morgan commented. "You try 'em all?" he asked, and Floyd merely swallowed, but still didn't speak. "Hmm? Must've tried some of them, right? Talk to me. Which ones did you try?"

After a moment, Floyd answered, speaking for the first time since being arrested. "Some of them have a smiley face by them. Others a frowny face."

Morgan raised his eyebrows and glanced at the page, spotting a smiley face next to the recipe name, he turned the page and found a frowny face next to the "Skewered She" recipe. "They sure do. Why?"

"They didn't turn out so good," Floyd admitted.

Morgan sighed. "Well, thank you for that. You hear voices, Floyd?" he asked.

"I'm not smart," said Floyd, avoiding the question and glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact. "But I have a smart friend who tells me things."

"What's your smart friend's name?" Morgan asked.

Once again Floyd ignored the question. "He wants me to tell you somethin'."

"Tell me what?" Morgan asked.

"Your watch has stopped," Floyd answered.

Morgan glanced at his watch, and sure enough, it'd stopped at 3:10 pm.

* * *

"He's tryin' to spook him," Rossi remarked, impressed by Morgan's performance.

"Well, it won't work," said Hotch confidently.

* * *

"Uh…yeah, I was meanin' to change the batteries over a month ago," Morgan admitted, unfazed; he then stood and stretched his legs before facing Floyd again. "You know, we thought you chose athletically built women because you were attracted to them, but that was only part of it right?"

When Floyd didn't answer, Morgan placed his hands on the table and leaned in slightly. "Like a woman with a little bit of meat on her bones, don't you? Makes for better recipes doesn't it?"

He frowned when Floyd still didn't talk. "Hmm? Somethin' I'm missin?" he asked, hoping to get something out of the guy.

"Skinny ones take drugs," Floyd finally answered.

"So you don't like drug users?" Morgan inquired, realizing that this probably explained the change of victims.

"They taste funny," Floyd admitted.

Morgan glanced at the mirror and then looked back at Floyd. "Where's Tracey Lambert, Floyd?"

"I'm not suppose to tell you," Floyd answered. "I'm only supposed to tell Father Marks."

Now _this_ surprised Morgan. _'Father Marks? Why him?'_

"I'm gonna stop talkin' now," Floyd added, which meant that the interrogation was over for the time being.

Having no other choice, Morgan picked up the cookbook and left the room.

* * *

"We can't put Father Marks in the same room as Floyd," Detective Jordan protested as Morgan rejoined them.

"Normally I'd agree," said Hotch reluctantly, "but if we're going to learn where Tracey Lambert is, then this looks to be our best option to fulfill his request."

Morgan could see that Jordan didn't look convinced, and he didn't blame him since he felt the same way.

"Listen, I agree that putting Father Marks in the same room as Feylinn isn't the best idea," he told the detective. "But Feylinn made it clear that he'll _only_ tell Father Marks were he'd hid Tracey."

While they went over the pros and cons, Rossi talked with Sam. "Sam, being empathic, what can you tell me about Feylinn's emotional state?"

Sam shrugged. "Calm in a _very_ disturbing way," he responded. "His emotions haven't spiked _once_ since he was arrested…not even when Morgan was questioning him earlier."

"Hmm, so Feylinn is either controlling his emotions quite well for someone who is mentally disturbed," Rossi guessed. " _Or_ he's unable to process his own emotions."

"Either way, he ain't talkin' unless it happens to be Father Marks," Dean pointed out.

Liz sighed. "Well, it's out of our hands since there's no demons involved."

"Oh, I don't think so," said Rossi thoughtfully. "Despite the lack of supernatural activity, you three have been quite helpful."

"Glad to be of help," said Sam, smiling.

Soon it was decided to call in Father Marks, and hopefully learn where Tracey Lambert was being held.

* * *

A/N: So, what is Feylinn up to? Why does he want to talk to Father Marks? Share your guesses in your reviews. R&R everyone!


	4. Chapter 4: AN UNPLEASANT TRUTH

Supernatural: Fate or Luck Pt. 1

A/N: Hey guys, so here is the final chapter for part one of this story, and if you haven't watched either episode the whole way through, then shame on you for reading this first since it contains spoilers, and Garcia is about to learn something about Colby that will shock you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_ ; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR: AN UNPLEASANT TRUTH**

" _The preacher sought to find out acceptable words: and_ _that which was_ _written_ _was_ _upright,_ _even_ _words of truth_ _."_

 _Ecclesiastes 12:10_

When Father Marks arrived at the police station, one of the cops led him over to the corridor that lead to the interrogation room, and where Morgan was waiting.

"He's right there."

"Thank you," said Father Marks and he walked down the corridor to Morgan, who faced him, and after a moment, they shook hands as a sign that all was good.

Morgan then sighed and clasped Father Marks' shoulder. "You gotta let me do all the talkin'. You hear me?" and Father Marks nodded; patting his shoulder, he opened the door, and let the priest into the interrogation room.

* * *

The BAU team, the Winchesters, and Detective Jordan watched as both Morgan and Father Marks entered the room where Floyd was waiting, and he was still handcuffed.

"Do you think Feylinn will really tell Father Marks where Tracey is, Hotch?" Liz asked, concerned.

"Let's hope so," Hotch responded.

* * *

In the room, Morgan had Father Marks take the seat across from Floyd, who was staring at his hands again, and Morgan took the seat between them.

"Thank you for comin', Father," said Floyd, still not looking up.

"Anything that I can do-" Father Marks began, but he stopped when Morgan raised a hand.

Morgan then spoke to Floyd. "Floyd, I had to pull some serious strings to get him here. My bosses didn't like the idea at all of sendin' him in. now, they're gonna allow to let him sit right here and listen, but you're gonna talk to me, all right?"

"Ok," Floyd mumbled. "I've done some really bad things."

"Everybody's done things they're not proud of, Floyd," Morgan told him after exchanging a look with Father Marks. "The only thing that helps is to talk about 'em, tell other people. Things are always better after you talk about 'em."

Floyd shook his head. "Not everything."

* * *

While the interview went on, Rossi was examining the various volunteer lists, noting that Floyd's name was on the sign-in sheet, and not on the searcher's list.

"This is strange," he muttered, looking through the papers again. "When he entered the park, Feylinn signed the volunteer sign-in sheet, but his name isn't on the list of searchers."

That had them all confused. _Why_ would Floyd sign in as a volunteer, but not be part of the searchers?

* * *

Meanwhile, Morgan was still talking to Floyd. "Come on, Floyd. I got him here like you asked. Now you're your turn. Tell us. Where's Tracey Lambert?"

Father Marks watched Floyd, wondering how this seemingly normal young man could do something so horrible?

* * *

"Something's wrong," Rossi told Hotch as they continued to listen to the interview.

"Can I see those lists?" Liz asked, and Rossi handed her copies to examine.

 _`"Father, I feel_ so _alone,"`_ Floyd complained, still not looking at anyone. _`"I feel like God has abandoned me."`_

* * *

In the room, Father Marks exchanged another look with Morgan, who nodded that it was all right for him to talk to Floyd.

"Why?" Floyd asked.

* * *

"That's strange," Sam said quietly, frowning.

"What is?" Dean asked, noting his brother's expression. "Sammy?"

"Fylinn's emotions," Sam answered, "they've shifted a little for a moment, almost as if he's gettin' ready for somethin'."

Hotch and Rossi were pondering the lists with Liz, trying to figure out why Floyd had volunteered, but hadn't helped with the _actual_ search.

"He signs in, but he didn't do any-" Liz paused as she began realizing something. "Feylinn, he – oh crap…"

* * *

Taking a breath, Father Marks spoke to Floyd. "You're not alone, my son," he said seriously. "God is inside all of us."

The moment he heard those words, Floyd _actually_ looked up, almost as if he was expecting to hear those _very_ words.

* * *

"His emotions are changin'," Sam gasped, startled by the sudden change.

"We need to stop the interview," Rossi snapped, having found the same thing as Liz.

* * *

Floyd suddenly grinned. "So is Tracey Lambert."

This surprised both Morgan and Father Marks, but then they both recalled that Floyd had been at the staging place at the park, and that he'd been serving chili to the searchers.

"You son of a bitch," Father Marks whispered, swearing for the first time ever, and Floyd laughed. "You son of-" he lunged across the table to strangle Floyd, but Morgan jumped up and grabbed him around his waist.

"Father Marks, Father Marks no!" Morgan shouted as he attempted to stop the swearing and struggling priest. "Come on, come on! Help!"

At that very moment, Hotch, Rossi, and Liz all burst into the room and helped Morgan with Father Marks while Floyd continued laughing.

* * *

"That _sick_ bastard," Detective Jordan cursed. "He was _feeding_ the volunteers that day at the park." And then left the room, shouting orders to the nearest officers. "I need _every_ available units, and a haz-mat team, to go to Feylinn's BBQ restaurant and shut it down!"

The others were both shocked and were feeling ill, too.

"I'll _never_ look at barbeque the same way again," Dean moaned.

"Same here," Sam agreed grimly.

* * *

Floyd Feylinn remained in the interrogation room, laughing with evil glee because he'd fooled them all, and had shaken an _entire_ community to their core.

* * *

It was a somber group that'd flew back to Quantico, VA, and when they landed, the Winchesters decided to go with the BAU team to their headquarters, and have a _chat_ with Erin Strauss about getting Agent Henriksen off their backs.

* * *

Morgan entered the chapel of a church and looked up at the stain-glass windows, pondering both what Rossi had told him on the ride home, and the fact that he was still in the dog house with Penelope, who was out on a date.

' _Man, that girl can_ sure _hold a grudge.'_ Swallowing, he went to one of the pews, sat down, and he bowed his head, silently praying for the first time in years.

* * *

Meanwhile, Penelope and Colby were walking through a courtyard and to the apartment complex that she lived in.

"I had a great time," Penelope told him with a big smile.

"Same here," Colby agreed. "I guess it was lucky that my computer died when it did."

"Uh, I don't know about luck," said Penelope thoughtfully.

"You don't believe in _luck_?" Colby asked, facing her with interest.

"Hmm, I believe that everything happens for a really good reason," Penelope responded. "So, this is my place," she added, nodding to the front door.

Colby also nodded. "Right." And for a moment, it looked like he was going to kiss her, but he hugged Penelope instead and started walking away.

Penelope started up the porch steps. _'Wow, what a_ great _night.'_

Colby stop walking, put a hand in a pocket, and turned back. "Hey, Garcia." And when she faced him, he smiled. "I've been thinking about doin' this _all_ night."

Penelope also smiled, thinking that he'd changed his mind about kissing her, and so when he pulled out a revolver and shot her, it came as a shock. "Oh!"

To be continued…

* * *

A/N: I now doom you all with an evil cliffy! R&R everyone!


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